Shades of Grey
by Sweetdeath04
Summary: I was... afraid of my father. Because the sight of him absorbed in his research was as if he were possessed by something." When Riza Hawkeye's mother died, she lost both her mother and her father, and gained a madman in return. Spoilers from Ch57.
1. Part One: White

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is not mine. It belongs to our wonderful Arakawa-sensei. If it was mine, it would be called The Flame Alchemist!

**A.N.**_ Heya! Wow, my first FMA fic! It's just a little theory that's been niggling at me for a while. WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS FROM CHAPTER 57 TO 59 or so. _

_Enjoy!_

**Shades of Grey**

**Part One: White**

Everything was black and white. Good was white and pure, like the snow that covered the grass at her feet. Evil was black. Her black dress, her father's suit and the black clothes of the people gathered at the graveside represented this perfectly. It wasn't fair, thought four year old Riza Hawkeye, that her mother, Annabel Hawkeye, should be taken from this world when she should have so many more years to live (and for a child as young as Riza, the dawning of a new year seemed such a long time away).

But today, little Riza realised for the first time that nothing was so clear cut. Like the grey sky that was threatening to open and cry along with her and wash away the perfect whiteness of the snow, nothing was black or white.

There was only grey.

* * *

Less than a year had passed since the death of Riza's mother. Things had changed in the Hawkeye household. Granted, that was only to be expected- Annabel Hawkeye had kept the small family together, caring for her only daughter and easily pulling her husband away from the alchemy research that he was so engrossed in, when it all became too much.

But that scene had changed. The only person left to care for Riza was her father. But Nicholas Hawkeye was a lot harder to pull away from his research these days. He rarely emerged from his study and both father and daughter sometimes ended up going without a proper meal for days on end.

His research, too, had changed. It was no longer flame alchemy that he focused on. He had been playing with fire for years, occasionally delighting his beloved wife and child with a simple trick or two. But the light from that flame had been extinguished, at least temporarily, and he was now surrounded by the shadow of death.

His research was taboo. It was forbidden.

But if he could bring one woman back from the dead, maybe the darkness that had enveloped the Hawkeye household could be lifted.

* * *

It was complete! It was perfect! Nothing could go wrong! All those other fools who had attempted Human Transmutation did not have the wisdom that he had! They didn't have the stamina to see their research through to the very end!

They didn't have the same desperation as he had.

Nicholas could feel his heart eroding over the past year. It was a slow process that prolonged the pain of the loss. He could barely look at Riza, whose young face was so like her mothers.

He had prepared supper for the two of them that evening. He had watched her smile sweetly, watched for the light that invaded her eyes when she saw him emerge from his study, all the while thinking how much happier she would be when he returned her mother to her. The childish happiness that he had witness tonight would be enhance ten- no, one hundred fold!

He knelt beside the transmutation circle, anticipation bubbling in his stomach and rising in his throat. He had the most absurd compulsion to laugh, something he hadn't done in such a long time.

He couldn't wait any longer.

He began.

* * *

There was a storm outside. That's what was causing all the noise. Nothing to be afraid of.

Nevertheless, Riza could feel the- what was this feeling? She really wasn't sure- rising inside her.

Father had been in such a good mood tonight. She could feel the light return to the house after so many months. Everything had been grey since her mother's death. There was no such thing as light anymore. Just darkness.

But tonight she had felt something change. Even at five years old she could tell from the aura that her father emitted that everything would be alright.

Another crash sounded, but this time it wasn't from outside.

Riza leapt from her bed, scurried out of her room and down the staircase, only pausing when she reached her father's study. Behind that door was a forbidden room. Behind that room was the source of the crash.

Her small hand that was resting on the door handle press downwards and the heavy door opened a crack. No more. What Riza saw made her freeze.

A blue light illuminated the room and she could see that the source of the previous crash was the big thick books that had fallen from the shelves around the room. But that was not what held Riza's eyes.

Nicholas Hawkeye was bent over a transmutation circle, hands planted firmly on the chalk lines as though they were glued there, his back arched in pain. His head was thrown backwards; his eyes wide, unseeing and his mouth open in a silent scream.

Riza could hear a voice, although there was no one in the room, speaking. From the back of her mind she could hear the words, not directed at her, but instead at her father.

"_It's not enough! Foolish human! You think you can gain everything and loose nothing! What will it be that you lose?"_

Riza trembled in the doorway as she heard a voice she recognised scream back. Her father's voice, that she had heard so many times, no longer sounded human.

"Then take my heart! It hurts so much!" The pain in Nicholas's voice was evident. "Please, take my heart! Get rid of it! I can't bear it any longer!"

"_Heh, as you wish. But you may regret it."_ The unearthly voice replied. _"Since it's such a burden, I'll do you this favour. But you won't get what you desire…"_

"No!" Nicholas's voice was now nothing but a low moan.

Riza stood, transfixed with horror as she watched her father's heart being ripped out of his chest by an invisible hand. Blood flew everywhere, but even as the still beating heart disintegrated the flesh that surrounded the hole in his chest healed.

The accursed light that had flooded the room was now gone, and in the darkness that now returned, Riza could feel thousands- no, millions- of eyes staring at her. But there was no one there to look at her.

The demonic voice returned, invading her mind. _"You have no business here, brat. Shoo!"_

Riza Hawkeye wasn't even aware that the power had returned to her legs until she was halfway up the staircase.

She just kept running.

**A.N. **_Okay, this was originally going to be a one-shot, but now I think it'll be a three parter. Part Two will explain everything a wee bit more._

_As much as I hate Riza's father, (He was such a git! Who uses their daughter as notebook paper? Really?!) I can't imagine him always being so heartless. _

_Okay, so the whole thing's gonna be washed down the drain when Arakawa-sensei proves me wrong, but hey, it's fun!_

_Okay folks, tell me what you think! Please be nice! I promise the next couple of chapters will be better! Roy'll show up next time!_

_Please review!_

_**Sweetdeath04**_


	2. Part Two: Black

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist or anything related to it does not belong to me. Except my Roy Mustang plushie…

**A.N. **_My muse has been restored! Yay! All because there's going to be a new FMA anime that is supposedly going to be based on the manga! Happy, happy! I hope it's good…_

_Enjoy!_

**Part Two: Black**

The next morning, Riza tried to convince herself that _it_ was only a dream; a horrible nightmare conceived by the storm that had raged outside. Those hopes were quickly dashed when she made her way down the stairs, following the sound of voices to the door of the living room. She peeked cautiously inside and saw Doctor Coutelle sitting with his head in his hands, opposite her father who still wore the bloodstained shirt from the night before.

"Mr Hawkeye, _please_, this is something I don't understand! You must go to the hospital so they can run some tests and figure out-" Coutelle as cut off by Nicholas's scoffing.

"What is there to, 'figure out', as you so eloquently put it? You, nor any other doctor, would understand. It's _alchemy_! I've been practicing this art since before you were born!"

"But, Sir!" The younger man protested, "You have no _heart_! No man can function without a heart!" He sounded almost distraught.

"And yet, here I stand," Nicholas stated, a note of finality in his voice as he ushered the doctor towards the door. "Thank you, again, for your council and-" he grasped the baffled man's wrist before he scurried away, "don't tell anyone."

Coutelle nodded his head fiercely; most likely afraid of what this man, who could live without a heart, would be able to do to him if he ever broke his word.

As the door latched into place, Nicholas turned and looked down at his daughter, who had emerged from her hiding place. "Riza," he spoke, and a shiver ran down her spine, "go eat breakfast and find something to amuse yourself with. I don't want to be disturbed today."

The words barely registered with the little girl, but the _tone… _It wasn't cold, cruel or even resentful. It was as though Nicholas Hawkeye just didn't care anymore.

Things would remain that way in the Hawkeye house for many years to come.

* * *

Three years passed in the same manner. Riza had grown quiet, sullen, as Nicholas delved further into his research. He had offered to teach Riza alchemy and those few months were the most joyous for years. It was the only time she had ever captivated her father's attention since her mother's death. However, it wasn't to last. Not that Riza wasn't talented- how could she be anything else after growing up with a man who cared more about alchemy than his own daughter? It was this talent that, in the end, forced her to stop learning the art. Too many nightmares of an unseen, yet all-seeing face and a voice that seemed to haunt her very soul.

In short, Riza was afraid of the sheer power of alchemy taking over her and making the same unspeakable mistake that her father had made.

The consequences of such a mistake were now obvious, even to a child such as she. Nicholas Hawkeye had lost his heart, a vital organ to any other human, and continued to live. But the beast that had ripped it from his chest had taken something else with it.

Nicholas Hawkeye lost any feeling he ever had. And now, the only thing he lived for was his alchemy.

Riza had followed the example of her father and become withdrawn at home and at school, not because she wanted to, but because she no longer knew how else to act. It was now, just before her eighth birthday, that she had her first memorable encounter with one of the seven deadly sins.

Envy.

Not that she'd ever admit it.

For while she cursed the alchemy that had taken her father- the kind, caring father that she barely remembered- away from her and replaced him with this unfeeling clone, she knew that she would hate _him_ before she ever met him.

_Him._

Father's new _pet._

Roy Mustang.

* * *

Riza's initial impression of Roy Mustang was not wrong. At least, that was what she told herself.

In a way, she _had _been right. She did hate Roy Mustang when she first met him and it wasn't until nearly six months later that she realised that the hate had ebbed away into a grudging respect. Her father, who never acknowledged her presence, now sat at the table with them for meals instead of holed up in his study. He had gone from deathly quiet to sparking debates with the boy, usually about alchemy but sometimes about other matters, such as the police state they now lived in.

Riza, herself, had changed to accommodate Roy. Gone was the sullen, mute little girl, replaced by a more joyful child who would laugh and fight and play as the mood struck. She found she had talent in something other than the alchemy she had abandoned long ago. Readily, she would aim her makeshift slingshot at the target- Roy's head.

There was life in the Hawkeye household once more, and each person who lived there cherished it while it lasted.

* * *

A year before Riza was sent to boarding school, Albert Mustang died. It was a sudden change that not only affected Roy, but Riza too.

Roy, now fourteen, was the only son of Albert Mustang's, explained Nicholas. So now that Albert Mustang was deceased, Roy was head of the Mustang family. He would grieve with his mother during the funeral, but when he returned, Roy would no longer be 'Roy'. He would be 'Mr Mustang'.

Riza had returned from boarding school for the summer. She was approaching her twelfth birthday and Mr Mustang had just turned sixteen. She was at an age when she could be influenced by the smallest things- however the events of this summer were anything but _small_.

Nicholas had been continuing his research whilst teaching Roy. The boy- young man now- was talented; there was no doubt about it. But he was restless, a flaw that would prove, in Nicholas's eyes, to be his one great downfall. Lately, Roy's teaching had been neglected as Nicholas strived to finally complete his research. Its completion was so close that he could almost feel his non-existent heart pounding within his chest.

Roy's impatience would prove not to be his own downfall, but his master's.

* * *

When Riza rose to make breakfast, exactly a week after she had returned home, she found a suitcase, not food, waiting in the kitchen. She stared at it for a moment before being startled out of her ponderings by footsteps on the staircase.

"Mr Mustang!" She darted out of his way as he lugged another case across the kitchen, dumping it beside its predecessor.

"Sorry, Riza," Mr Mustang turned and gave a small, sheepish smile. "Your father's going to be in a bit of a bad mood with me for a while."

"Why? What did you do?" she paused, looking at the cases again, "And where are you going?"

The smile dropped as Mr Mustang turned suddenly serious. Wiping his hands on his black slacks, he said, voice hushed, "The Eastern Military Academy. I want to do some good for the people of this country and I can't wait around for your father to finish his research forever."

He didn't meet her eyes. Nor did she for wish him to.

She caught an almost apologetic smile as he turned away from her. "Wish me luck!" he quipped.

Riza didn't reply. Instead, she stood outside the door of the study after it closed. Even with her ear pressed against it, the thickness of the heavy oak muffled the sound beyond comprehension.

That was, until the alchemists inside the study raised their voices to the extent that Riza jumped back in shock.

"You mean, after everything I taught you, you still want to defile your name and become one of the military's dogs?"

"The military do what they have to so that civilians like you can stay safe in your homes! Alchemists are supposed to work for the people, but what have you done? How has your research benefited the people in any way? Sensei, I don't have time to wait around for you to finish and then decide that I'm ready to learn your secrets!" Roy protested, his voice getting louder as he went along. He started to yell something more, but stopped abruptly as Nicholas roared at him.

"The research is almost complete! It could be finished in a month, a week, or even tomorrow! And, until today, I was convinced you were ready!" His voice lowered, "Obviously I was wrong."

Roy started to speak again, this time in a much more reluctant and unsure tone, but was once again interrupted by his master. However, this time it was not intentional. Hawkeye had choked on his own words and had begun to cough violently into his fist.

Roy sighed and turned away. He pushed open the study door and looked across the room to where Riza had fled, now able to hear every word clearly. "I can't wait forever, Sensei," he repeated. In three steps he crossed the kitchen and picked up his bags.

"Goodbye, Riza," he said to the young girl, before dragging open the door to the yard. Both father and daughter watched as the man who had touched both their hearts, whether they had one, or wanted to admit it, or not, strode into the village towards the train station.

Nicholas turned on his heal and stomped back into the study, slamming the door behind him. Riza, meanwhile, continued to stand at the door and watch the mop of black hair bob away. "Goodbye, Roy," she breathed.

She didn't know it at the time, but that would be the last time she would say his name for a very long time.

It was only a few days later that Riza turned twelve. Less than a week after that, Nicholas Hawkeye's research on Flame Alchemy was completed.

* * *

"Riza. Come here." Nicholas commanded. Riza hovered at the doorway of the study before placing one foot in front of the next, willing herself to walk. The room itself haunted her along with the _voice_ of so many years ago.

"I need your help with my research," the man spoke slowly, trying to convey just how important this research was. As she scanned the room with her sharp eyes, she picked out bits of paper ripped up and scattered across the floor, spilling over the bin; Red ink and parchment.

"I need to keep it safe. It's dangerous, Riza, if it's placed in the wrong hands." Alchemy was supposed to be used for the good of the people. She had grown up hearing this phrase from both her father and Mr Mustang. Why, if he was so concerned in using alchemy for good, would her father create something so dangerous?

"I want you to guard it. Look after it. Make sure the only person who ever lays eyes on it will use it for the good of mankind."

She didn't speak. She almost didn't dare. His recognition was almost too good to be true.

"Riza?"

"Of course, Father," she breathed.

* * *

She hadn't been warned about this! When she had been made the guardian of Flame Alchemy, she had expected a box with a lock. Not this!

At first, it hadn't been so bad. It was just a little twinge as the needles were inserted. That delusion soon wore off as the skin of her back became tender. More needles punctured her skin and by the end of the first day her skin was raw.

She decided it was better not to move. It was a lesson that she learnt the _painful_ way.

The second day was week later. Nicholas had to wait until the skin healed, or risk ruining the tattoo. The writing that surrounded the alchemic lines was vastly important. It was what he had spent so much time working on, coding it inside another code.

Riza automatically jerked away from the needle as he brought it down towards her back, but it was weak; feeble. He had been worried that she would scream or wail and cry. He had known she wouldn't have the guts to strike him, but he hadn't expected her to be silent. So silent, he mused to himself, as he added the final touches to the ink salamander, that he couldn't even hear her breathe.

He didn't hear her thoughts, which were screaming curses at alchemy, at him, and at Roy Mustang, who had joined the military, leaving only her to protect this dark secret.

* * *

Three years passed and Riza, who had not returned to boarding school, continued to play the role of the dutiful daughter. With his research complete, Nicholas had nothing left to live for and his health began to decline. The house fell into disrepair and along with it, its owner.

Roy had not expected such lifelessness when he returned.

He had almost walked straight into the house, but remembered that the days when he could do _that_ were long gone and with them, any respect for him his master once had. So he knocked.

When no one answered he tried the lock, only to find it broken. He pushed against the door and walked in, his footsteps reverberating inside the kitchen. He didn't bother to call out his presence. Instead, he headed straight for the room he knew he would find Hawkeye-Sensei; the study.

Sure enough, there he was. He looked… older. By more than three years.

Roy walked through the doorway, pulling closed the large oak doors behind him. Straightening up, he smartly stood at attention just as he had been drilled.

"So you became a soldier after all, Roy," Nicholas spoke, his voice low, soft and yet obviously disappointed.

"Yes, Sensei," Roy swallowed nervously, "I thought, eventually, I'd like to take the qualification for a State Alchemist and work for my country." He tried to put his thoughts and reasons in some kind of order before he made a fool of himself. He had to show Hawkeye-Sensei that he had made something of himself in these past three years.

Frowning, Hawkeye turned to look at him with hollow eyes, "As I thought, it's still too early for you to become, 'The Flame Alchemist'." He turned back towards his journals.

"Still…" Roy thought for a moment. He hadn't expected his master to be so abrupt. "Is it?" he asked, "In the end, you've only taught me the basic's of alchemy," he added a slight hint, "up to now."

"Of course," Hawkeye stated bluntly. "It's a waste to teach someone, who would degrade himself by becoming a dog of the military, even the fundamental concepts."

_Ouch!_ "'Alchemy is for the people," Roy recited, smiling wryly, feeling a strange sense of déjà-vu. "Is it?" he repeated. "Sensei," he began the speech he had rehearsed, "I think that being useful to the military is linked to being useful to the people. Now that we are exposed to threats from surrounding countries, strengthening the military is most urgent," Roy emphasised. "To protect the nation, alchemy is-"

He was cut off by Hawkeye's tired sigh, "I'm tired of listening to those second-hand opinions."

Dismayed, Roy tried one more time, "Sensei… To think, if I had as much knowledge as you, it should be easy to take the State Qualification. Honestly," he paused for a moment to think on what he had seen as he had entered the old house, "I find it unbearable that someone of your caliber is smoldering in such destitution." He tried appealing to his mentor's better nature, "If you take the State Qualification and accept the issued research funds, your research would also go even farther…" He trailed off, not knowing what to say and hoping that he hadn't just dug his own grave.

Slowly, Nicholas blew out a breath of air, "There is no need for that." Roy watched him, confused. "My research has been perfected for a long time. It is the strongest kind of alchemy. Depending on how it is used, it can also be the most _deadly_," he spoke, his voice full of remorse. "And I became _satisfied_. Alchemists are living beings who, as long as they are alive, cannot go on without seeking truth. When they stop their thinking," he explained to his student carefully, "the 'Alchemist' would die."

Nicholas smiled, but it was almost feral, "That is why I am a human who died a long time ago."

In that instant, something changed. At first, Nicholas wasn't sure what it was, but then he felt it.

A beating, slow and lethargic, within his chest.

Roy was still speaking. Nicholas put the phantom heart out of his mind and tried to listen.

"Please don't say such a thing!" If Roy had been any younger, Nicholas would have sworn he was whining, "If you would please use that power for the world-"

"Power?" Nicholas cut him off, still feeling the beating in his chest, "So you want power, Roy?"

Perhaps Roy would have answered. Perhaps he could have convinced Nicholas that the military _was_ the right path for him, although Nicholas seriously doubted. But he never had the chance.

Biting down on the cough that was rising in his throat was probably a mistake, for it came back with full force. Blood tasted metallic in his mouth and ran down to his chin. Weakness overtook him, and Nicholas collapsed in his chair.

It was back. His heart was back. And it had brought something, perhaps his conscience, with it.

Roy's yell fell on deaf ears. Nicholas was dying- he should have died ten years ago, but now was his time... Just when he had realised that there was so much left for him to do... Roy cried out to him again, alerting his master to his presence.

"Since I saw your growth... with my own eyes... I thought of bestowing it on you," Nicholas choked out. "What a pity... I don't have any time left to teach you... but my research... my daughter knows it all..."

_Riza!_ What had he done to her? He had cursed her with that damn tattoo!

"If you're saying you will use my alchemy..." he wheezed, "My power in the correct way, she will probably present the secret to you..."

What had he done to Riza, his daughter?

"I'm sorry... I was so immersed in my research that I couldn't do anything for you... I'm sorry, Riza..."

Instead of giving her a good life, he had taken that chance away from her...

"Roy..." he muttered urgently, ignoring the younger man's terrified yells. "I'll leave my daughter to you... please... please..."

_Please look after her..._

"Please..."

Nicholas Hawkeye didn't hear the rest of his student's frantic cries for help. He didn't feel his body being hoisted out of the chair. He didn't see his daughter standing, terrified, in the doorway.

The post-mortem examination would rule that Nicholas Hawkeye died of natural causes. What those causes were, no one could be sure. But, Doctor Coutelle, ordered a full autopsy and subsequently resigned from the medical profession after viewing, with his own two eyes, the heart that sat in Hawkeye's chest, right where it should be.

* * *

The funeral was small. Nicholas Hawkeye was cremated and his ashes were buried in a grave beside his wife, at his daughter's request. She didn't cry and Roy had to wonder what had transpired within the three years that he had been gone, to leave her like this; only mourning because the deceased was her father. In fact, when he talked so naively of his dream for the military and the country, she looked relieved.

And then she offered to hand him the research.

It was too good to be true, yet here she was, sombrely leading him back to the house.

They passed the study and climbed the staircase, Roy, straight-backed and proud, trying to hold in his excitement until a more appropriate time, Riza, head bowed as though walking towards her execution.

They came to her room and she commanded him to shut the door behind him before instructing him to face it.

He should have guessed it would be in here. Where else would be safer in the house? He heard a rustle of fabric; perhaps she hid it under the bed, or inside a pillowcase.

To stop himself from fidgeting, he spoke his thoughts from earlier aloud. "You don't have to stay here, you know? If you want to, I don't mind doing a bit of repair work to the house. It wouldn't be too difficult if I used alchemy." He paused and waited for a reply, but she didn't speak. "Or you could go to Central. There's always lots of jobs there- or so I hear." She still didn't speak, but he could hear that she had stopped moving.

"You can do whatever you want. You don't have to do your father's bidding anymore. In a manner of speaking, you're _free_."

He didn't expect the bitter laugh that came from behind him- not from such a sweet, quiet girl.

"Turn around," she ordered.

He did so and inhaled sharply as he first took in the beauty and intricacy of the array.

Then he realised that this was not the parchment in a safe that he had expected.

The amazement quickly turned to horror and the evolved into anger at the injustice. He hadn't asked for _this_!

"No," Riza spoke, still so bitter, "I can never be _free_."

**A.N. **_That took a while to write! I've been working on this chapter steady for a week, ever since I heard about the new anime series!_

_I'm not overly pleased with this chapter. It skips about a lot, but this is a three part fic, not a fifty chapter fic, so it's adequate. It ended a lot darker that I had intended, but I _like_ that so it's okay!_

_Now my muse has been restored and I know that the next chapter can never be as difficult to write as this, you'll probably get an update soon! I apologise for the wait- life took over!_

_**Sweetdeath04**_


	3. Part Three: Grey

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or anything related to it. I'm writing this for my own enjoyment and am not getting paid.

**A.N. **_Wow! Last part! I've decided to put a rush on this fic because Arakawa-sensei could crush all my theories with the next chapter._

_Thanks to all my reviewers! I appreciate all your comments. And to my __**Anonymous**__ reviewer: Hawkeye's past, and now Roy's too, really are enigmatic. I think that's why I wanted to write about them so much. Thanks for all your comments, they're really appreciated! Thanks!_

_You know... If everyone who had this fic on alerts reviewed, I'd be a very happy writer. hint, hint!_

_Enjoy!_

**Part Three: Grey**

She wasn't sure when she made the transition from 'Riza' to 'Hawkeye'. Perhaps it had been the day she was sent to the front lines, where people rarely used rank as, with so many deaths, they were always changing. Perhaps it had been before that when she was stationed further back; when she had first killed another human being. Perhaps, she thought bitterly, it was the day when she had enrolled at the damned Eastern Academy.

Whenever it was, it certainly hadn't been a conscious thought. Once, the name 'Hawkeye' had reminded her of her father. Now it was her call to arms.

But now the war was over, at least, that's what they said. She had watched emotionlessly from a sniper tower the night before as explosions ripped through Ishbal and now she was supposed to return to the base camp to listen to praises from the _exalted_ Fuheur.

But she had something to do first.

Her only job last night had been to shoot down any who escaped the carnage created by the alchemists. There had been few- too few. She would have let the one person, a young boy, escape had he not been pointing the weapon he carried at a soldier in blue. She had aimed and fired and the boy fell to the ground, limp.

The soldier, who had been on the ground ready to plead for his life, picked himself up and glanced over his shoulder in Hawkeye's general direction. He nodded at the sniper he couldn't see, and then stared at the corpse of the boy.

Hawkeye hadn't expected him to kick it into the ditch at the side of the dirt road.

So here she was, trudging down that same dirt road towards the corpse of the child. When she reached him she pulled him out of the dirt and ever so gently placed her fingers over his eyelids and closed them.

The first time she had killed a child, a week after the orders had come through that the entire nation was to be annihilated, she had done nothing but stare numbly at the girl, not much younger than she. It wasn't until one of the men back at the camp had patted her on the shoulder and congratulated her that she staggered away and retched.

Hawkeye dug at the dry ground with her bare hands. She stayed there for over an hour, not noticing as her fingers bled from the abuse. As she laid the body of the boy in the earth and covered it, she wondered if these people, or what was left of their race, still believed in their god. She had heard Maes comment that he would have given up hope in a god that had given up on him, just as Ishbala had done with these people. Major Mustang had simply stated that he was a scientist and didn't believe in such things. Hawkeye had stayed silent, staring into the contents of her tin mug as they sat at the fire. She didn't believe in any god, not anymore. She didn't believe in a devil either. All she believed was that the actions of mankind could imitate the actions of these beings, heavenly or otherwise.

And she had committed acts of the devil. Something, she swore, she would never participate in again.

"Aren't you going back?" a voice asked from behind her. She didn't speak or acknowledge her superior in any way, continuing to pile stones upon the heap of earth. At least this way, she thought, the dogs wouldn't dig the body up.

"You'll be left behind," Major Mustang coaxed, as though trying to persuade a particularly reluctant child out of a toy store.

She was no longer an innocent child and this sure as Hell was no toy store. She didn't answer.

"Is it a comrade?" he tried once again to gain a response from her.

"No," she replied, almost impertinently as she thought of the solider whose life she had most likely saved- the same soldier who had kicked the boy into the ditch. "An Ishbalan child…" she murmured in explanation. Turning round to face Roy, she added, "He was shot and left on the roadside alone." No need to tell him _who_ had shot him. Major Mustang still _wanted_ to believe that she still possessed some sort of innocence, even though he had watched her take down many an Ishbalan.

Maybe, he had abandoned that hope, Hawkeye thought, as he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out for a moment. "Let's go back," his voice was almost a whisper in the still of the desert. "The war is over."

"The Battle of Ishbal isn't over inside me yet," she spoke, voice hollow. Then, more to herself than to her companion, she muttered, "No… It will probably never end." Never. There was no way to bring back the dead; she knew that better than anybody. But unless she could give back what she had stolen from so many, it would never end. Instead she would live in purgatory until her life, too, was stolen.

"I was the one who believed in you and entrusted my father's research to you," she voiced the thoughts that had plagued her since she first saw a column of fire desecrate an Ishbalan village. "I was also the one who chose to go into the Military Academy, wishing for the happiness of the people." Oh, what a naive fool she had been… "Even if that had undesired results," she lamented, "I cannot run from the facts. "To deny, atone or beg for forgiveness is the arrogance of those who did the killing," she struggled to keep her voice even.

Riza Hawkeye sat, fists clenched on her knees as her eyes filled with unwanted tears. The pain 'Riza' had went through when that cursed tattoo had first been transcribed onto her skin would pale in comparison to what 'Hawkeye' would feel if Major Mustang granted her request. But then, Riza wasn't sure she could live with herself if he didn't…

"I have a favour to ask you, Mr Mustang," she fought to keep from trembling. "_Please, burn and crush my back._"

Roy's reaction wasn't what she had expected. "_What,_ are you…" she heard the 'insane' that wasn't spoken. No, she wasn't insane. She didn't think that those who had injured themselves or died by their own hand during the war were insane either. "There's no way I can-"

_No!_ "At least!!" she pleaded. He _had_ to! Her eyes were shut tightly, even so, tears leaked out from between the lids. "If I can't atone, then, _at least_, so that it can't give birth to another Flame Alchemist!" So that she wouldn't be responsible for this kind of carnage ever again. "So that the secrets on this back can't be used." She forced herself to calm down, to breathe, before turning to look him in the eyes.

In a much calmer and decided voice, she issued her last plea, "And so that I can lay down my bonds to my father and alchemy, to become Riza Hawkeye as an individual. Please."

_'I can never be free.'_ Words, her words from a long time ago, came back to him._ Libera me, Domine._ How ironic was it, that those specific words were inscribed on her very being? _Free me, Lord…_

Under her gaze, he finally ducked his head and consented.

Slowly, as though trying to delay the moment when he would scar her for life, he withdrew his gloves from his pocket. "How much," he whispered miserably, "would I have to burn to kill… or if it would hinder your lifestyle?" He raised his voice to explain, "The depth and range of burns has become within my power. How ironic," he mused. He was worried about killing her when he had tortured countless others before they reached death by his flame. He knew exactly what to do. And yet, his hands still shook. "I've become too used to burning people in this battle," he lamented sadly.

Hawkeye watched as he pulled on his gloves, still unable to meet her eyes. "You found me lying on the ground, left for dead," she stated firmly. He looked up, startled, as she continued. "You think I may have gotten caught up in one of the final explosions whilst returning to base." His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. "You will never be implicated for this. Instead, you will be my saviour."

He nodded. The higher-ups and the doctors would believe it. They were all so grateful to be getting out of this sandpit that they would believe anything so long as it meant they didn't have to stay here any longer. "Yes, alright. Take off your coat and shirt." When Hawkeye shook her head violently he realised the implication of what he had just said. "I didn't- I mean… I need to_ see_ it, Hawkeye!"

When she continued to shake her head he began to get exasperated. "I need to see it so I can minimise the burning! I don't want to hurt you anymore than is necessary, Hawkeye!"

"I was caught up in an explosion," she stated, enunciating each word carefully. "You need to make it look like that. It would look suspicious if I was burned but my clothes weren't even singed."

"So I'll burn them separately!"

"No! Please! Just get it over with!" She turned around again, still on the ground, bracing herself. "Please."

Roughly, he pulled on one of his gloves, shoving the other back in his pocket. He snapped and let the flames dance along his fingertips for a few brief moments. Hawkeye was taking deep, steady breaths, physically and mentally preparing herself. He kneeled down behind her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

* * *

The moment the flame touched her skin, Riza bit down and ground her back teeth together. She didn't scream, though, as Major Mustang's flame made its way over her left shoulder and the stench of burning flesh- her burning flesh- drew tears from her eyes. At least, that's what she told herself it was. She wouldn't give in to the searing pain- she couldn't!

Roy's eyes also shed tears. He had burned people during the war, people he didn't even know, and he had hated it. It seemed that as long as he was burning people, his war would never be over. And now, here he was, burning through multiple layers of the skin of a friend. The worst thing was, it was all his fault. He shook and he tried to support his arm with his other hand, but it was no use. His vision blurred from tears, and he knew it was from his disgust at his own actions, not the burning skin. His had trembled violently and a small portion of the centre of her back burned under his flame instead of the area he was concentrating on.

He stopped then, hand dropping to the ground as he bent forward so that his head almost rested on his lap. When his quiet sobs subsided he realised he could still hear Hawkeye's breathing. It was sharp, ragged and obviously pained. It was amazing that she was still conscious at all.

Roy crawled round to face her. Her eyes were wide and her mouth a bloody contrast to her face. She had apparently bitten down on the inside of her lip to stop herself from screaming. Roy grabbed her, pulling her to her feet, ignoring the sharp intake of breath as he pulled her body over his shoulder.

Hawkeye was barely aware of what was happening. She could feel herself bouncing off Mustang's shoulder as he ran. He could hear him talking, possibly to her, but she couldn't make out the words. Her eyes closed and she screwed up her face, suppressing the urge to yell.

Mustang was calling a name and she felt herself being lifted onto a hard mattress, face down. Outside of her own little world of pain, there was pleading, a thank you and finally a command to leave.

* * *

Roy had carried her to Dr Knox, a man who had committed as many evil deeds in this war as he had. He was now a specialist on burns and Roy knew he could be persuaded to stay quiet should he have any wish to divulge this particular piece of information.

He hadn't been able to burn her whole back. He was too scared of losing complete control and killing her. The higher-ups wouldn't have noticed one more burned body, one more soldier dead, but scarring her as he had just done, even when it had been she who requested it, didn't sit well on his conscience .

Knox had told him to leave, and with one last look at his friend, lying, almost unconscious, on the medical cot, he closed the door behind him.

In the future, Roy Mustang would have many a nightmare about the atrocities committed in Ishbal. But the one thing from this hell that he would take to his grave was sound that came from the room he had just left. For a Roy closed the door, Hawkeye's pain became too unbearable and she _screamed._

* * *

She wasn't fully coherent again for a number of days, what with the mixture of painkillers and sedatives she had been fed. There were times when she drifted in and out of consciousness and every one of these times she could have sworn Roy was sitting by her side. One of these times, he spoke.

"I can't undo everything I've done, Hawkeye. But, I swear to you, I will make sure it doesn't happen again. I'm going for the top. I'm going to become Fuheur. I swear, Riza. I swear that I will not make you suffer like this again."

There and then, Hawkeye realised that by burning the tattoo on her back she had cut her ties to her father. But the scar that covered it had created a new tie, a new bond. One with Roy Mustang. One that she hoped she wouldn't regret.

Her last conscious thought was that there was no black or white in the world. There was only grey. But there were many shades of grey and she would continue to hope that it would continue to get lighter as Roy Mustang became closer to his dream.

The End.

**A.N.** _Well, that's it! Wow! I think I'm really going to miss it! This chapter was, once again, mainly written during school. Oh well!_

___I hope everyone who read this fic enjoyed it. I'd seriously appreciate comments! You'll make my day if you drop me a review!_

___Thanks to everyone who's kept with this fic!_

___**Sweetdeath04**_


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